


Dark Roast, No Sugar

by Whimsically_Reading



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, Dark coffee shop au, Detective Rowan Whitethorn, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Other, Pregnancy, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, description of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimsically_Reading/pseuds/Whimsically_Reading
Summary: "Can I get a dark roast? No cream or sugar," The man repeated, irritated.Aelin Galathynius was trying her best to pull her life from the gutter. She runs a small cafe called "The White Stag" with her best friend Lysandra, and frequent customer Detective Rowan Whitethorn isn't making things any easier.A Darker Coffee Shop AU
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Dorian Havilliard/Chaol Westfall, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre, Nesryn Faliq/Sartaq
Comments: 70
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This a darker take on the normal, light hearted coffee shop AU. It will have a happy ending, and the romance here will be slow burn, but Rowaelin is endgame. There will be humor and fluffy moments, don't worry. I hope you enjoy ~ :)

The smell of hot coffee filled Aelin's nose. Warm and rich. Humming to her "work appropriate" playlist while she bustled around the whistling, gurgling pots and machine. 

It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The morning coffee rush had slowed enough to take a well-deserved break. Aelin sat a teapot on the stovetop for herself, but she eyed the espresso machine longingly.

Dr. Yrene Towers had _stressed_ how important it was that she cut down on caffeine. Seeing as she owned, worked, and _lived_ in a coffee shop, that was a big ask. Lysandra, her best friend, and roommate was her source of willpower. She stayed on top of Aelin's caffeine consumption and found ways of fixing up a green tea that almost made up for the lack of lattes in her life.

"Aelin, no one is here. You need to sit down and get off your feet for a bit. The dishes will still be there in ten minutes," Lysandra called from a table in the back. 

"I'm coming, just putting a kettle on for me," Aelin sighs and tries to rub at the sore spot on her back. 

A set of hands replaced hers and worked their thumbs deep into the muscle. Aelin moaned a little obscenely, and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled sweetly at Lysandra. "Has anyone told you, you're the best boyfriend?" 

Her friend gave her a wicked smile. "You could stand to tell me more." 

Aelin scoffs, and they share a laugh. Lysandra truly was a lifesaver in her eyes, though. When Aelin had finally secured her freedom and spent the last of her life savings on opening _The White Stag,_ Lysandra moved into the above loft with her and worked for way less pay than she deserved to help Aelin get on her feet. 

"Go sit down. You really shouldn't be on your feet this much. Yrene said that you need to be taking it easy." Lysandra turned her around and gave her a look daring her to argue. "I know it's just the two of us here. You don't want to _overwork me_ or _abuse our friendship_ or any of those other bullshit excuses. But I'm telling you that I am perfectly capable of handling a little extra work until you are back on your feet."

"It's not going to be a little while, though," Aelin groaned. This was a conversation they'd had many times. "I'm not an invalid. At a certain point, I will have to let you take on more of the load here, but I will work until the very minute I can't." 

"I'm just worried. Worried about _both_ of you." Lysandra says, and Aelin rests a hand against her growing bump. Her little piece of Sam. 

_Sam_.

__ Her eyes welled up at the name. It was still too soon. 

"Hey, now. I didn't mean to upset you." Lysandra crooned, too used to her fluctuating moods. "Just go sit down? For me? I'll doctor your tea and bring it over to you." Aelin nods and wipes her hands on her apron.

Once Aelin sits down, she finds it difficult to stand back up. A delicious, creamy, sweet tea in her hands. Somehow the book she's reading finds its way onto the table in front of her. Lysandra shrugs her shoulders innocently when Aelin glares in her direction. Not to mention, being off her swollen feet felt _divine_. 

Lysandra played dirty. 

Half an hour passed by in the blink of an eye, and Aelin was getting to a _particularly_ juicy bit of her book when the shop bells rang. She picked up her cup and finished the last, sweet sip and made to stand up. When she turned around, Aelin almost dropped her mug.

The man could only be described as _beautiful_ in an untraditional way. Short white-blonde hair gelled neatly. He wore a black suit that stretched over his broad chest and well-built arms. Hellas, he was _tall,_ and an intricate black tattoo crawled up his neck and scrawled across his cheek.

He didn't smile, which wasn't terrible for Aelin. If he had, she might have lost any semblance of her cool. To her great embarrassment, she realized he was speaking to her. 

"I-I'm sorry. What?" Aelin asked.

"Can I get a dark roast? No cream or sugar," The man repeated, slightly irritated.

_Oh,_ he was one of those. "Of course," Aelin said as she hurried behind the counter. Where had Lysandra gone? "Can I get a name for it?"

"Is that necessary? I am the only person here."

Forget beautiful, Aelin seethed. The man was grating on her nerves now. She had dozens of regular customers come in every day who were nothing but pleasant. Her patience for arrogant men was non-existent. 

"Fine then. It will be three-fifty." Before he can get his cash out, she walks away to make his drink. She pours the pure black rocket fuel into a disposable cup and wishes for nothing more than to drink it herself. 

She hands him the drink and accepts the money. 

_Exact change_. 

Aelin coughs exaggeratedly before he can walk away and nudges the tip jar towards him. Making sure the cute little sign Lysandra had designed was facing him. 

_ On a scale of 1-10 dollars, how hot are we? _

__ He looks at the sign, looks at her, and then stares _pointedly_ at the barely visible bump beneath her apron. "If you are so desperate for pocket change, you shouldn't have gotten pregnant." 

Her vision goes red, but he's out the door before she can unleash the slew of insults she was about to hurl at him. 

What an _egotistical, judgemental, piece of-_

__ "Woah Ae, what happened? I was only gone for five minutes."

Aelin only shook her head, too angry to speak, and got started on washing utensils. The only bit of satisfaction she got would be when he realized what name she wrote on his cup.

_Asshole._


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They are detectives?" Aelin spat.

_Aelin leaned her head against a solid chest and counted the beats. These stolen moments were what she and Sam lived for. His breaths were even, and the gentle rumble of thunder outside assured their temporary safety._

_ Arobynn's plain was delayed due to the torrential downpour flooding Rifthold. They'd received the text at the same time, and Sam immediately came to find her. Sneaking into the manor was risky, but Tern, Harding, and Mulligan were all occupied, and no one would dare enter Arobynn's office while he was away. _

_ Well, everyone besides them. The danger was definitely worth it, Aelin mused as she stretched like a cat and sprawled into a more comfortable position over the muscled torso. A hand reached up and dragged calloused fingers through her hair, making her preen with satisfaction.  _

_ Sam chuckled from below her, spread out like a starfish on Arobynn's poached polar bear rug. She felt sad for the untimely death of the creature, but she couldn't deny it made the perfect spot for their rendezvous. _

_ "We can't stay like this forever," Sam reminds her gently. He works his fingers down her long blond hair to the nape of her neck, where he works at the knotted muscles.  _

_ "Not now, but soon," she reminds him as if he wasn't the one to concoct their crazy escape plan.  _

_ A kiss pressed against her forehead marks the seal of his promise. "Soon," he agrees. "This hell will be over for you and me." The conviction of his voice lets that little tealight of hope in her chest flicker dangerously. _

_ "We will be free. The only dreams we will be having is what our home together will look like," she nuzzles into his chest and urges him to keep going. He knows she likes it when he talks long term to her.  _

_ "In the mornings, I will wake up to you in my bed. Your hair all over the place, and your arms constricting me like a hungry python." _

_ She cracks her eyes open at that and gives him a sleepy glare.  _

_ "I wouldn't change a single thing about it," he continues. "Knowing you are safe with me is all I will ever need to be happy. Waking up to you in my arms is enough beauty to sate me wherever we end up. I'll be the happiest man alive."  _

_ Tears burned the corners of her eyes, and a lump ached in her throat. For so long, she'd been deprived of affection and relationships of any kind. Aelin couldn't help the feeling of free-falling every time Sam declared his love. It was a treasure she thought she'd never had again. "I love you, Sam," Aelin whispers against his chest and presses a messy kiss to the muscle there.  _

_ "Then why didn't you look for me?" His voice cracks in pain. _

_ Startled, Aelin's head shoots up. Ice chills her blood, and the screams that pour from Aelin's mouth are unearthly when she's faced with the gaping holes where his eyes should be.  _

_ His eyes. She feels that familiar pain beneath her ribs. Those eyes that had been so kind. Made her feel so safe and radiated warmth. Aelin mourned their loss. Mourned him. _

_ "You didn't look for me," those damning words left his lips again. _

__ Aelin wakes up with a sob. "I'm sorry," she yells to the empty room.

"I'm sorry," she keens. There are no hands in her hair. No beating heart beneath her cheek. She curls into a ball and grabs locks of her hair, pulling at them until strands fall loosely into her hand. The agony builds until it pinches her gut so hard and wrenches her heart so profoundly that she barely makes it to the toilet before hot, acidic bile burns a path up her throat.

It burns through her over and over until she's leaned against the toilet seat sobbing. Her arms wrapped around her midsection protectively. 

Morning sickness should have passed by now, but she still spent a great deal of time in this position. It never got less painful, and Aelin's seemed more aggressive than what other mothers recounted experiencing online. Her constant sickness and nightmares were leaving her feeling weak.

Maybe it was a punishment for bringing a little life into a world that had savaged its father? That thought crossed Aelin's mind often. Perhaps it was penance for her selfishness. Her wanting to keep this small piece of Sam despite knowing the kind of life it would be subjected to endure. 

There was no forgiveness for the things she's done. Why would the universe let her have this? She should just be grateful it hadn't been taken from her entirely.

_Spineless, coward._

__ Aelin laid curled up on the bathroom floor for hours. Existing in a constant cycle of sickness followed by mental torment. Chills wracked her frame, and she trembled on the cold tile. She barely had the energy to lift herself up when the urge to vomit struck her. Words floated in her head, furthering her misery.

_Coward. Liar. Oathbreaker. Life taker._

That's where Lysandra found her, at a _much_ more reasonable hour of the morning. Aelin was so tired she could only sob when the door cracked open. Her head fell forward and rested against the porcelain seat, too weak to hold it up any longer.

Lysandra had cringed and _very_ gently guided her head from the toilet rim to her shoulder, nestling Aelin's forehead into the crook of her neck despite the cold-sweat there. 

She crooned sweet nothings and soothed Aelin until she had the strength to stand up and collect herself. Lysandra helped her dress and brush her teeth. She left Aelin to sit on the couch and came back with lightly buttered toast, a glass of water, and a cup of ginger tea. 

Her attempt to decline it was futile. Lysandra left no room for argument. Slowly, Aelin bit the toast and sipped the tea. Bite by bite and drink by drink, she finished the breakfast. 

Lysandra didn't relent her hovering for the rest of the morning. As she was forced through her morning routine under her friend's watchful eye, she began to feel more human, and that awful pain slowly faded to the background of her mind. Nausea still rolled in her belly, but the food and drink helped settle it enough for her to function.

Now here Aelin was, only a couple of hours later, filling muffin cups to have ready for the early morning regulars. 

Her attitude was dismal. 

She felt sick. Her body ached from hours of lying on the cold tile. Sweat soaked her clothes and chilled her forehead. Just _looking_ at her cup of tea made her angry that it wasn't coffee, but her stomach burned so furiously that not even coffee sounded good. It was a horrible paradox and was only just that much more _upsetting._

Aelin felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, and she slammed the bowl of batter down so hard that it splattered up her apron. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and tried to will the tears back down.

Maybe she would cave to Lysandra's demands that she go upstairs and rest. It went grated against her desire to be self-sufficient and independent, but taking a hot bath and curling up in her bed sounded like pure bliss. The baby would likely benefit from her decompressing, too. That thought sold her on the idea.

The bell at the counter rang.

Aelin took a deep breath and washed her hands quickly. She would take this customer and then let Lysandra know she was taking the day off.

Thinking of the jasmine soap and the warm blanket waiting for her upstairs was _just enough_ for her to plaster on a smile. 

"Goodmorning, how can I- _you_ ," The last word came out in a hiss. Aelin's smile melted as quickly as it came.

The asshole was back, and he brought a friend. 

_ Whoop-dee-freaking-doo. _

To his credit, the friend was equally as beautiful as the Asshole himself. He had dark skin, the color of polished pennies, and long blonde hair that coiled just above the arches of his cheekbones. If his choice of companionship didn't perturb Aelin so much, she might've found him attractive.

_ Hell _ , she found him attractive anyway.

"Is that how you greet all your customers, sweetheart?" The friend smiled at her, and his perfect teeth were bright enough to signal plains. 

"Do you call every girl sweetheart or only the ones you want to spit in your coffee?" Her tone is sharp enough to cut glass, and the man's eyes widen at the challenge. 

"I don't drink coffee, but I supposed the hot chocolate I was going to order is just as easy to violate," he laughs warmly, and her eyes follow the motion of his adam's apple. "How about I lay off the pet names in exchange for a warm cup of sugar without saliva?" His face was sincere enough that she felt less inclined to spite him for his choice of friends.

"Your name?" she asks.

"Fenrys," he offers without a joke, and Aelin writes it on a cup.

"I want a dark roast, black." The asshole reiterated his order from the day before. He had his arms crossed, and his face was set in a grimace. His comment the other day still rang in her ears, and she was certainly not feeling generous. Aelin scowled at him and left them both at the counter without a word. 

It only took a few minutes to make the cocoa. She made every cup from scratch with a recipe she'd been perfecting since childhood. As she prepped the drink, the store bells rang again.

Turning around with the drink, she spotted her cousin Aedion at the door and smiled. 

She and Aedion had been separated by the system shortly after her parent's death. He was five years older, and their caseworker though Aelin stood a better chance of being adopted by herself. It was a traumatic memory for both of them. They'd found each other about a year ago, and it took little time for them to rekindle their relationship.

She set the cup on the counter in front of them. "That will be three-fifty." The Asshole raised a pale eyebrow. "My coffee?"

"I have the right to refuse services to anyone I wish. That will be three-fifty." Aelin felt great satisfaction as The Asshole's lips pinched together and his scowl deepened.

Aedion raised his eyebrow from across the room. 

Lysandra chose that moment to walk back in, and when she caught sight of Aelin's expression and saw the seething man in front of her, she hastily made her way over. 

"Can I help you?" She asks, looking towards the men. Aelin knew the question was directed at her, though. 

There were a lot of eyes on her. Aedion. Asshole. Handsome Fenrys. Lysandra. Aelin thrived on attention, but there was a difference between _attention_ and being a spectacle. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller and crowded. 

Fenrys placed a hand on the Asshole's shoulder, concerned. "Hey. It's fine. We can get your cup of dirt water somewhere else. It's not a big deal, Rowan." 

_Rowan._

"I am a paying customer," the man, _Rowan_ , gritted through his teeth.

"You are paying for my coffee and pastries," Aelin snarled. _"_ Your money _does not_ purchase you the right to verbally abuse me. 

Aedion was over in an instant, chest puffed and oozing with male bravado. "Well met, gentleman. I believe my cousin said three-fifty." He edged close enough to bother their personal space. "If it's too difficult for you to figure out, I can help you count your coins and show you the door?" 

At six-two, Aedion was an intimidating figure. He was physically massive—layers of dense muscle from underground fighting and patrolling the streets with his gang, _The Bane._ An impressive tapestry of ink sprawled across his chest, curling out of his sleeves and collar just enough to let others know it's there. Most people would see him and think twice about approaching him. 

_Rowan_ was taller than Aedion even, and perhaps more muscular as well. They squared up, neither breaking eye contact. 

Fenrys seemed displeased with the turn of events, but when Aedion turned to glare at him, there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. He was next to Rowan in an instant, pushing on his chest. "That's enough of your shit. I'll pay, and we are leaving."

He fished out five dollars from the pocket of his trousers and tossed it on the counter. "Keep the change. Sorry for disturbing your day, ladies." 

When the shop bells jingled, and the door slammed shut behind them, Aelin sighed and felt herself wilt against the counter. Her breathing was labored, and her heart still thrummed with the excess of adrenalin. She was prepared for a fight. Muscle memory had her tense and ready for the situation to escalate, which of course, it didn't. Old habits died hard, though.

A steadying hand was gripping her elbow and helping her lean into a solid body. "Hey, Ace. Relax, it's fine." 

Lysandra shook her head, "That was the bastard from yesterday, I am guessing? You should have let me take care of that." She points up the stairs. "Go. You need to take a day off. Upstairs. Make sure she sits down, Aedion." 

"I had it handled," Aelin grumbled, allowing Aedion to tug her towards the stairs in the back of the little kitchen. 

Her cousin snorted, "Oh, I know you can handle yourself. The stress isn't good for Little A, though." 

"You just want to throw your street cred around." 

Aedion laughed, "That too."

Aelin slumped onto the thread worn couch and tugged at her tennis shoes. She sighed when they finally slipped off, and she could rest her swollen feet on the old coffee table. Their apartment wasn't the luxury she and Lysandra were accustomed to, but it was more of a home than the Mannor had been. 

"You look exhausted," Aedion stated bluntly.

Aelin closed her eyes and hummed. "Is that the language you use when you talk people into your bed?" 

"Not a lot of talking is required for that," Aedion says with a straight face. "Even if it was, I would be practicing on Lysandra, not you." 

Few words passed between them after that. They weren't necessary. Aelin and Aedion talked and texted all the time, but there were times when they just needed to soak in each other's presence. Years apart starved them of that unspoken bond they'd had as children. 

Being close to Aedion was one of the few things that staved the fear and allowed her to relax. He was like the familiar taste of hot tea and the warmth of a childhood blanket wrapped into one. She had no doubt that Lysandra had called and ordered him to come to see her at some point this morning. 

The Bane typically showed up on Friday nights to play poker at her tables and hang out. Aedion would stay through the weekend, and they would catch up then. An early morning visit on a weekday was out of the ordinary. Occasionally Kyllian or Jerome would pop by and make sure nothing was amiss. 

When Aelin and Lysandra liberated themselves and opened the shop, Aedion had insisted they find a location in The Bane's stomping ground. Arobynn was less likely to stumble across them outside of his territory. She'd seen Tern and Mulligan prowling the streets.

Arobynn wouldn't let them go so quickly.

Aelin hadn't wanted Aedion to get involved, but there was no way he would leave them defenseless.

They compromised. 

Once a month Aelin would _donate_ a small share of The Stag's tips for their protection. It was a pitiful amount. So she also offered her spare bedroom as a hideaway for Aedion's friends who needed a place to lay low. So far, only Ren had utilized it, but it was always ready to go. 

Aelin was by no means someone to screw with. Her other name was just as well known on the streets as The Bane were. It was a good arrangement. 

It's why Rowan had gotten under her skin so badly. She _needed_ those tips to keep The Bane well equipped and for other resources to keep Arobynn out of her hair. 

He didn't know about the baby. Didn't realize the depth of how much Aelin had actually betrayed him. There would be hell to pay if he ever found out.

Plus, baby shit was expensive. 

"So," Aedion finally broke the silence. "How did you piss off the cops?"

Wait. "What?" Aelin sat up and leaned forward. "What do you mean?" 

"That was Detective Fenrys. He booked me the last time one of our fights got broken up. Nice guy. Let me out on a technicality." Aedion smiled. "Maybe he just thought I was good looking. He's not wrong. I am assuming the other guy is his partner."

"They are _detectives_?" Aelin spat. 

"The best and brightest Orynth has to offer," Aedion ruffled her hair as he stood. "You sure know how to pick your fights, cousin." 

_Well shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can cry with me, ask me questions, or follow my original works on Insta or Tumblr :)
> 
> @whimsically_reading - Insta
> 
> whimsicallyreading - Tumblr


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It sucks to be a woman in love with an unkind man-" Ginny Blackmore
> 
> A little more intrigue, a peek at Lysandra's back story, and a dash of drama.

Aelin would never admit it out loud, but a day off was just what she needed. She spent the morning napping, snacking, and reading. Her stomach settled, and when she took off her shoes, her feet didn't look like they belonged to a bloated cadaver. 

Spending that time with Aedion was also refreshing. He kept the conversations light. Telling her about the antics between hostesses at The Pits, a run-in between Ren and the police. A story about the drug dealer they'd roughed up and how he'd pissed his pant when he saw Aedion and the stray puppy Kyllian had snuck into The Den. 

When they got hungry, Aedion offered to make them a late lunch. Her mouth watered at the prospect of his famous grilled cheese with _two_ kinds of cheeses and ketchup. 

Lysandra came up to join them for lunch and her nose wrinkled at the sight of them dragging the cheesy goodness through globs of red sauce. "By the dark god, you two. That's disgusting."

Aedion grins, a dot of ketchup on his chin, "You haven't even tried it yet. This meal is a riot with the guys and saved my ass with foster siblings." He wiped his face on his sleeve and leaned back in his chair. "You don't shit on the kid who can actually make edible food."

Aelin laughs and dusts her hands off like a lady. "Actually, you don't shit on the kid who looks like he started doping at eleven. But yeah, I'm sure it was your budget lunches that saved you."

"Shut up, you love it when I cook," Aedion collected their plates.

Lysandra pulls up the chair next to Aelin's at their tiny, rickety table. She set down her container of salad, looking classier with her more mature pallet. Aelin swiped a cucumber from the top and chewed into the seasoned veggie. "Your food is nostalgic. What can I say?" 

Aedion's playful demeanor seemed to deflate suddenly, a furrow creasing his brow. "I suppose why I have you two together, we should talk some business." 

"Uh oh, that doesn't sound good." Lysandra tensed up, shooting a worried look at Aelin.

"Is it the bidding for this month? I told you I could get at least an extra hundred dollars to you by the end of the month. If you need more, I could-" 

Aedion cut off Aelin's rambling with a raised hand. "It's not the bidding. Elias pulled enough to cover our bets for the month." Relief flooded through her, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. 

The underground fighting game in Orynth was wildly exclusive. To get a spot during prime hours when tickets were hot and the betting pool was hotter, the local gangs had to participate in an auction. It was pricey, but the cuts you got from winning a fight made up for it big time. 

Unfortunately, the Bane was not a wealthy group of men. A lot of them had families or relatives they were supporting. They usually scavenged up enough money to get two or three guys into the fights, and those funds were just enough to pull them through to the next month. 

Like Aelin, those families did what they could to fund money towards the bidding. Initially, she was going to volunteer as a fighter, but she found out about the baby, and they all agreed it was too risky for her to get in the ring. As soon as she was cleared, she still intended to participate in the fights to Aedion's chagrin. 

Between the extra patrols of her street and snuffing the rumors of her existence in the city, it took a chunk of the Bane's recourses and time. Aedion assured her that the guys understood her circumstances, but she contributed as much as she could monetarily until she could contribute physically as well. "What's going on then?"

"Rolf took a beating in the ring last night. He's going to be out of commission for a while, but we didn't lose any money. He managed to bust the guy's head at the last moment and pulled through." He paused.

Aelin was confused, though. It wasn't uncommon for one of the guys to get roughed up a bit, so long as they didn't lose, there wasn't an issue. "That's too bad about Rolf, but I don't see the problem?" she pushed him to continue.

"He swears the guy was tripping on Synth," Aedion breathes out, pained.

_Oh._

"Shit," Lysandra swears and stands up. "Is he sure it was Synth?"

"It's kinda hard to rutting mistake, Lysandra," Aedion snapped. He was right, though. The Pits had rules against cheating, but they were followed _loosely_. If they couldn't see a knife being pulled, the fight wouldn't be called. Some of the Bane even doped before a match just so they wouldn't get caught at a disadvantage. 

_Synth_ had a lot of physical effects. Adrenalin coursed through the user at such high rates it was practically superhuman. It gave them crazy speed, strength, and heightened focus. On the flip side, it also caused fever, bulged veins, twitching, bloodshot eyes, and uncontrollable rage as you came down. It would be hard to mistake it for any other street drug. Aelin had taken Synth once before, and it wasn't an easily forgettable experience.

The detail they were glossing over was that only one person was currently capable of leaking a drug like Synth on the streets.

_Arobynn Hammel_

"So," Aelin finally said, breaking up the heated glares they were sharing. "He's making his presence in Orynth known."

Quiet. 

"We can't know it for sure," Aedion looked at her with a sickening amount of pity. Aelin didn't want sympathy or comforting falsities. She wanted the truth. 

" _Bullshit,"_ Aelin declared, making Aedion wince at the sudden sharpness. "We've had sightings of Tern and Mulligan already. We knew he was sending eyes out. They must have seen us."

Lysandra sunk back into her chair and rested her head in her hands. "I thought we made it?" her voice sounded extraordinarily young, feeble. Not at all like the vivacious woman they were used to seeing.

"Lys," it was Aelin's turn to rest a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

Her eyes were glassy and hollow when she looked up. "I really had myself believing we made it."

Aelin's heart broke for her. 

Arobynn was a sick son of a bitch. She, Lysandra, and Sam had all come into his care at different times and served various functions within the Manor. One thing was the same though, they were all _children_. 

They were all coerced into doing grotesque things for Arobynn's sake. Things that they should, in all honesty, spend years in therapy to recover from. Yet, some horrors were too big for even Aelin to pretend to understand.

Horrors that Lysandra was forced to live with every day.

Arobynn's unofficial _mistress_. 

Aedion's fist slamming against the table startled them both and snapped Aelin from her thoughts. Lysandra flinched and leaned closer to Aelin. "It doesn't matter."

He pointed his finger at them and then stabbed it into the table. "It. Does. Not. Matter. Where that piece of shit is. Rifthold? Wendelyn? He can be an hour away or watering the _rutting_ flowers next door, but he will _never_ have either of you ever again." The golden core in Aedion's eyes was molten.

The excitement was too much for Lysandra, and the dam behind her eyes broke. Deep, heavy sobs ripped from her chest, and her body wilted forward like a wind-whipped flower. 

They moved at the same time, but Aedion was faster. He pulled Lysandra from her seat and gathered her against his chest, shushing her and whispering sweet nothings into her hair. 

The bells rang downstairs. 

Aedion looked up helplessly, but Aelin raised a hand and mouthed, _"It's fine."_

None of them wanted Lysandra to be alone right now.

Aelin slipped her shoes back on and hopped down the stairs quickly. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too pissed no one was behind the counter when they walked in, she mused to herself. It only took her half-a-minute to get downstairs, but it was amazing the things people got outraged over. 

_Mala forgive that the coffee gets in their hand a second later than usual._

 _"_ Do my eyes deceive me, or was Aelin Galathynius taking a break?" Dorian Havilliard's greeted her with a bright smile and upraised hands. No trace of agitation at all. 

Chaol Westfall stood behind him and meekly tilted his chin. "Hello, Aelin."

"Hello, Chaol." She greets him with a smile and walks into Dorian's outstretched arms. Aelin wasn't a hugger, but Dorian's hugs had a magic to them. 

"Where did you go?" Dorian asked without breaking his grasp. "I never thought I'd see the day you weren't slaving away behind the counter grinding beans."

"We weren't super busy today, and I wasn't feeling the best," Aelin admitted. 

Dorian pulled away slightly to look down at her in concern. His dark, thick-framed blue light glasses slipping down his nose. 

"It's just the baby," she assures him. "Not the flu or anything. You don't have the right parts to catch what I've got."

Chaol snickered, but Dorian's concern only worsened. "In all seriousness, you aren't working yourself too hard?"

Aelin rolled her eyes. _If one more person asked her that-_

"I'm fine, Dor. It was just some morning sickness and a stressful customer that came through. No big deal."

His shoulders relax, and he releases her from his arms. "I believe you. Just-" he fumbles for the words to say, "If you have troublesome people coming in here and bothering you, let me know? Chaol can come over and hang out for the day. He has a friend, Nesryn. If it gets bad, I am _more_ than willing to hire her-"

Aelin smiled at him and waved at him. "No need for bodyguards. People are rude. It happens. Now, what can I get for the both of you?" 

Dorian was the son of the esteemed son of Dorian Sr. The owner of _Adarlan Vaults,_ the most extensive banking chain across Erilea. It was a total accident that they stumbled into each other when Aelin went in looking for a loan to start The Stag with. 

At first, he was a bit of a flirt with her. When Aelin made it clear that she wasn't interested in his advances, Dorian backed off right away and fell into the role of the supportive friend. He and Chaol had been the first patrons of the shop when the doors opened.

Chaol was _technically_ his hired protection, but he and Dorain were life long friends bound by something more powerful than money. She never saw the two of them apart. While he appeared to be a quiet sort, he had a sharp mind and fierce loyalty that Aelin admired. 

"Two iced girl scout americano's," Dorian pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty. "Large, please."

Aelin accepted the cash and started filling cups as the two took their standard seats. She just got the espresso machine heated when a set of hands pushed her's aside and began flipping the switches for her. 

"Aedion," she groaned as his hip bumped her to the side, and he took over her tasks. "Seriously?"

"You are supposed to be taking the day off," he looks at her pointedly. "Go sit with your friends. I've got this."

" _Do_ you have this?" Aelin set a hand on her hip. "You haven't used these machines before."

Aedion scoffed, "It cannot be that complicated. Now go. Before Lysandra comes back down and wipes the floor with both of our _asses_." He pulls out two large mugs and grabs out a bottle of coconut flavoring. "Baby A is shielding you for now, but that woman has the memory of a rutting elephant. Don't think you can hide behind my niece or nephew forever." He's more talking to himself by the end as he starts over pouring syrups into cups. Did he even know what he was making? Aelin winced. 

She might have to return the twenty to Dorian.

Aelin walks away reluctantly, "Mind if I sit here for a minute, boys?"

Chaol stands up and pulls a chair out for her, "Not at all."

He holds out a hand to help her sit, but she waves it away. She wasn't that pregnant yet. 

Dorian has a hardbound book sitting in front of him, the face of his expensive watch catching the light as he turns the page. "I haven't seen you by the bank this week," he says without looking up from the page.

"We've been enjoying the peace," Chaol sits back in his own seat and flashes her a grin. "That's a joke, of course. It's been horribly boring." 

"It's been a busy week. I haven't had a chance to drop my deposit off yet." Aelin typically made an excuse to visit the bank at least once a week. Dorian would kindly excuse whatever teller was working to take a break and promptly close the register so they could sit in the break room and talk over cookies and drip coffee. 

She was planning on going yesterday, but her feathers were too ruffled after _the incident._

 _"_ I suppose I can live without that excuse since I've taken it upon myself to visit you at work." He pulls a plastic bag filled with assorted chocolates and places it on the table between them. "If you need to drop off a deposit, I can take it back with me?" 

Aelin's hand darts to the bag of sweets and pulls out a dark, salty square. "Have I mentioned you are the most attractive man I've ever met?" 

They hear a loud scoff from the kitchen.

"You've mentioned it a few times." He glances up from his book long enough to wink at her. "What about that deposit?"

"I don't think I will have a big enough deposit to warrant the trip this week," the excuse isn't well-formed, and she hears it when the lie falls from her lips.

"You said you had a busy week?" Dorian frowns.

_I did, but I'm putting aside extra money to fund my cousin's gang because my former foster father has a hit out on me._

"The tips have been bad" not a total lie. "Maybe it will pick up again over the weekend," Aelin shrugs nonchalantly. 

Aedion walks over with two cups of coffee and a mug of tea. He lets Dorian's drink slosh over the side as he sets it down. Dorian lifts his book away from the mess and glares.

She wasn't sure what went down between Dorian and Aedion that made them hate each other. Chaol and Aedion had no qualms. They were even drinking buddies on the weekend, but Aedion had a bone to pick with Dorian long before she'd arrived back in Orynth. 

Aelin half-heartedly scolded Aedion as she accepted her drink. Taking a deep drink from the mug, she was surprised to find that it was made exactly as she liked. 

Chaol sipped his coffee, and Aelin watched as he barely held back a grimace. Dorian reached for his own cup, but Chaol discretely pulled it away before he could drink. Aelin caught the motion, but thankfully Aedion was already back in the kitchen and hadn't noticed.

"I will remake those for you before you leave," Aelin assured them.

"It's alright. As much as I love coffee, I really came by to spill tea," Dorian took his glasses off and leaned back in his chair. 

"Gossip," Chaol translated. "He means gossip."

Dorian rolls his eyes, "That's what _tea_ means, Chaol." Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, "A company called Wendlyn Ops. bought out The Pits." 

" _What?"_ Aelin shouts a little too loudly. Dorian shushes her, and Aedion peers out from the kitchen with worried eyes. She waves him away and whispers in a quieter tone. "What do you mean The Pits have been bought out? What for?" 

"I didn't realize you would care _this_ much about the seediest bar in town," Dorian laughed. "It's not like you can drink."

"You aren't drinking, right?" Chaol scowls.

Aelin reins back her emotions. She was definitely losing her tack being off the job for several months, but the secret basement underneath The Pits was where the fights were usually held. Iona Jayne would never sell the property when it brought in so much money.

He either owed someone a rutting ton of money, he was being blackmailed, or the most likely option. 

Iona Jayne was dead. 

Aelin flipped Chaol off, "Of course I'm not drinking. No promises on that in about five months... Just, who would want The Pits? Are they repurposing it?" She can already feel a headache forming behind her eyes. 

"That's the interesting part," Chaol murmured. "The title for The Pits was transferred to a new owner just a few days before it was sold for _triple_ its market value."

Dorian's grin became mischievous, "Shady deals are going on, and I'm determined to find out what." 

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Aelin forced a matching smile on her, "Well, this sounds like the making of an adventure."

Aedion was deeply involved with all the goings-on at The Pits. If Dorian managed to learn too much and expose them, he would go down hard. She wasn't directly implicated in anything beyond a little racketeering, but one prolonged look at her record would raise some eyebrows. Which could tie her back to Rifthold and numerous murders. A lot of murder. Thievery. Hired assassinations. 

They would be screwed, essentially. 

_Damn it all to hellas_ , she needed to talk to Aedion. Aelin understood why Dorian was interested in this. His father was involved with so many corrupt dealings they followed him like a shadow. She knew he was socially isolated beyond herself and Chaol. No one dared to associate with the son of Dorian Sr. 

Unveiling a corrupt business dealing and aiding the community could help separate his image from his father's. Rectify some of the wrongs his family has committed. Give him a chance at making a future for himself out from Dorian Sr.'s thumb. 

Aelin just wished he knew the depth of the task he was taking. How deep, dark, and dangerous this viper's den was. Sweet, sheltered Dorian Jr. would be eaten alive. A blue-eyed pup, trapped in the jaws of an adder. 

Little did he know that Aelin was a wolf herself, and she would not stand for that breaking. 

Aelin directed the conversation to safer grounds following the bomb he dropped. They discussed the book he was reading, the litter of pups his dog was expecting, his disgusting little brother. Chaol seemed to sour at the mention of Holland. 

Soon they were provided with fresh drinks, and Aelin ushered them out under the pretense of needing a nap. Definitely not a lie. Her stomach was rolling again, and that blooming headache was now a whole damn rosebush in her brain. 

Rubbing the knot between her eyes, she made the difficult decision of closing for the day. Business was slow. Lysandra hadn't come back downstairs. Aelin wasn't feeling well, and there was no chance she was letting Aedion use her precious machines again. 

Aelin looked outside the window. It was grey and dreary outside. Perfect conditions for the three of them to order pizza, rent a movie and just put this day behind them. 

"Aedion, I'm closing up." She didn't hear a reply. Aelin shrugged it off. He'd probably gone back up to sit with Lysandra. 

She opened a can of coffee grounds and inhaled wistfully. What she wouldn't give for a cup of straight caffeine. With one last longing sniff, Aelin refilled canisters for tomorrow and got to cleaning up the machines.

All that was left was to close up the registers.

She'd _just_ unlocked the drawer when the ring of the shop bells went off. 

"Sorry, we're closed," Aelin said without looking away from the task at hand. She would have to remember to lock the doors first next time.

Heavy boots thudded against her wooden floors as whoever it was approached the counter. Her irritation peeked. What was with the influx of entitled assholes lately?

"We are close-" Aelin's stopped and her eyes narrowed at the gun barrel aimed at the center of her forehead. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm helpless...clinging to a little bit of spine-" Halsey
> 
> Sorry this is shorter than I wanted. Lots of action in this chapter, not as much world building. Hopefully the next update will come earlier as a makeup for the length of this one. <3

There was a focus that came with being in imminent danger. 

Aelin could feel each contraction of her heart. Hear the wind grazing against the glass windows. See the twitch of the finger that was one pull away from ending her life. 

"Give me all the money from your register," the kid repeated. A waver in his voice betrayed his inexperience. 

Aelin didn't flinch nor hurry to give in to his demands. "What money?" 

"Shut up, bitch." The kid spat. He couldn't be older than seventeen. His brown hair flopped over his eyebrows, and his hands were smooth without marks. "I'm not asking you a question. Hurry up!" 

There was sweat on his brow. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was squeezing the handle. At seventeen, Aelin had already snuffed out many lives and committed far more impressive robberies than holding up a cash register. This kid was green.

Aelin weighed her options. If he shot now, he could take the money and run. It was unlikely the kid had the balls, though. Not to mention the difficulty of taking off down the street with an armful of cash after a gunshot if he wanted to go unnoticed. He didn't even have a backpack on him. 

She called his bluff.

"I don't think I will. I worked hard for this money, and I'm rather fond of it," Aelin pushed the drawer back in and twisted the lock. "Have a nice day."

A red flush crept up the kid's neck and colored his cheeks. "Now listen here-"

"No.  _ You  _ listen," Aedion walked up beside the kid and pressed his revolver to his head. "You better scram, boy. I don't want to scrape your brains off the wall."

Caught off guard, it gave Aelin the perfect opportunity to grab her own weapon from beneath the counter. She leveled her gun at a far __ more  _ delicate _ body part. 

"You heard him. And remember-" Aelin spat, and the boy flinched. One, armed Ashryvver was an unholy sight. With the pure fury on Aedion's face combined with the terror Aelin knew she could strike in her own prey, the kid would realize real quick he screwed up. "I shoot first." 

His face fell, and for just a moment, Aelin thought the kid would tuck tail and run.

Of course, he wasn't that smart. 

It happened in the span between breaths.

The kid made a desperate lunge forward.

_ Inhale. _

_ Pop. Bang. _

_ Exhale. _

_ "Shit!"  _ Aedion swore and ran his blood dappled hand through his lion mane of hair. "Hellas, Aelin. Where is the silencer on your gun?" 

Aelin let the tip of her weapon fall and pursed her lips, "When I put this gun under the counter, I assumed it would be used for self-defense and not my usual nefarious purposes." She glances down at the would-be robber, who now sported two more holes than a human body should have. "It seems I wasn't incorrect. He came into my business and pointed a gun at  _ me first. _ " 

" _ I'm on probation!"  _ Aedion slapped the gun on the counter and shook his head. "I'm not supposed to have a gun on me."

Aelin looked at him incredulously, "Then why would you come in here guns-blazing? Are you stupid?" 

Aedion threw his hands up, " _ I'm sorry _ . The next time a pisspoor thief points a gun at you and my niece or nephew, I'll just offer him a hot beverage instead."

"I tried the drink you made, Dorian. It's kinder that you just shot him and get it over with," Aelin smirked, and Aedion couldn't totally conceal his own grin either. Ashryvvers. Laughing at funerals and making light of inappropriate situations since birth.

"The police will be here soon. Someone will have heard the shots," Aelin throws some napkins at Aedion. "You've got to bail. Go find Ren or Kyllian and lay low for the day."

"Aelin," Aedion groaned. "We fired from two separate angles with two different calibers. They are going to know you didn't fire both shots, and it will put you under suspicion."

Aelin scoffed. "This is not my first rodeo, cousin. I will figure something out. I'm not the one on probation and  _ don't _ -" she stabbed a finger in Aedion's direction, "think that I will forget how you didn't care to mention that to me."

Sirens sounded off in the distance. Orynth PD had a terrible response time.

"Go," Aelin grabbed his arm and steered him to the back exit through the basement. 

Aedion hesitated at the door, but one more stern look from Aelin, and he pulled his hood up and left. She watched him go down the alley for just a handful of seconds, making sure he was going blend in and be inconspicuous and not take off running like a moron. Despite her nerves, she knew Aedion was smart. He would get away so long as Aelin played her part correctly.

Walking back to the scene of the incident, she started taking short quick breaths. It wasn't hard for her to will tears in her eyes either. She'd had a lot of practice playing the  _ hysterical woman _ . It wasn't a dignified or empowering role, but it was efficient. 

Soon, her breaths were genuinely becoming uneven as she forced herself to hyperventilate. Working with precision, she wiped the handle of Aedion's gun off on a dishtowel and placed it in the kid's dominant hand, and carefully disposed of his own into an overflowing trashcan. 

The sirens pulled up in front of The Stag, and Aelin grabbed her own gun. Closing her eyes, and forced herself to dig deep. 

_ Arobynn's cold eyes. _

_ A hand too low on her back. _

_ Dark cellars. _

_ Drowning. _

_ Gouged eyes. _

Aelin's breath hitched, and a tremor started in her arms. 

"Freeze! Orynth PD, drop your weapons," Detective Rowan Whitethorn blew through her shop doors in a fury with his attractive partner Fenrys behind him. 

Aelin hiccuped another sob and let her gun fall from her fingers. She held her hands up and looked at the detectives with a fearful expression. 

Rowan's eyes widened at her frazzled state before looking down at her gun on the floor. He followed the sight to the pool of blood and dead boy swimming in the center of it, and his hands darted for the walkie talkie at his side. 

_ 10.4 this is Whitethorn. We have a 905B at The White Stag on Kingsflame Crt. Send for an ambulance, one dead. _

Rowan repeated another string of obscure numbers into the device while Fenrys made his way past him.

"Hey, it's alright. Aelin is it?" His brown eyes were soft, and he approached with upraised palms. It was hard for her to believe that he was supposed to be a detective. Even with the arrogant, pig-headed confidence, she'd see from Fenrys the day before, the guy just seemed too friendly for such brutal work.

Aelin keeps up her ruse and nods her head tearfully. Her breathing was coming in jagged rasps, and she genuinely felt a bit light-headed as she starved herself of oxygen.

"You can put your hands down, Aelin. Just focus on breathing," a warm brown hand laced around her elbow and guided her towards a chain. "It's going to be alright. We will get this taken care of."

She allows herself to be steered towards a chair facing away from the body. Fenrys leaves her there for just a moment before coming back with a glass of ice water. "Drink this. It will help you calm down. You don't have to speak yet. I just need you to answer some yes or no questions for me. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Can you do that for me?" 

Aelin blinks exaggeratedly once and takes a long drink of water. Damn, did it feel good to finally be off her feet. 

"Okay, are you hurt?" Fenrys' eyes trail up and down her form, searching for blood. Well, her own blood. She had a healthy splatter of the boys across her front. 

She blinks twice.

"Did he come alone?"

Yes.

"Is that your gun on the floor?

Yes.

"Did you shoot first?" 

Aelin would have rolled her eyes at that question.  _ Obviously,  _ she shot first, or she would be the one resembling swiss cheese on her floor. She had to play the game, though. Feigning shyness, she looked away and declined to look at him.

"Aelin. It's okay if you shot first. He came armed and with the intent to do you harm. We will have to take you down to the station for questioning and bureaucratic bullshit, but you aren't in any trouble." Fenrys pats her knee comfortingly and smiles at her.

He almost made her feel guilty for lying. Aelin sniffled and nodded her head, blinking once.  _ Yes. _

"Okay, that's all I needed to know. Sit here for a minute. I'm going to go talk to Whitethorn. We will have an ambulance come to check you over, and the coroner will bring a crew and get this mess cleaned up." He stands up and dusts off his pants. "I would apologize because a death is ordinarily bad for business, but this is Orynth," he winks glibly. "Crazier shit happens here. People will be curious to see the pretty woman who stopped an armed robbery."

Fenrys disappears just as several more uniforms join the fray and move over to the body. Taking long, steadying breaths, Aelin starts to real back the emotions she just forced forward. It was harder to do in reverse, and she was glad for the glass of water to help measure her breathing. 

Her day off turned out to be way more stressful than she anticipated. Wrapping an arm around her swollen belly, she closes her eyes and tries to relax. 

It's peaceful for a moment until Aelin feels a looming presence at her back.

_ Rowan _ . 

Opening her eyes, Aelin looks up into the scowling face of Detective Whitethorn. 

"Miss Galathynius. That is your last name, correct?" He asks in a flat voice.

Aelin nods. "Yes. That's correct." 

He nods, "We got a report of shots fired from one of the neighboring businesses. In most cases, we would take you to the station to get your statement there and then send you home, but there appears to be an anomaly here. Tell me, play by play, what happened?" 

Wrapping both arms around herself, she allows a waver to creep into her voice as she recounts the story she rehearsed in her head. "I was cleaning up shop and closing out the registers- I wasn't feeling very well today, so I was shutting down early." She looks past Rowan and stares at the wall. All truths so far. "Right as I got to the register, I heard the front door open. I told them I was closing."

Aelin paused. 

"And?" Rowan urges her to keep going, frustration in his voice. 

"A man came in and pointed a weapon at me. He wanted the cash from my register. I-I keep a gun under my counter, and when he got distracted, I went for it," Aelin started blurring the details here, slowly working her lies in like flour into a mixer. 

"What happened when you went for your weapon?" Rowan pushes. "From the position of the corpse, he killed himself. Why would you shoot him anyway?"

Aelin sniffed again, "I pulled my weapon on him. and I don't know?" She rubbed at her face more aggressively, one arm still shielding that fragile part of her. A prick of worry always in the back of her mind that something could happen to it. "He was young? In over his head? I guess he got scared and didn't expect me to be armed. He turned the gun on himself, but I didn't realize that. When he pulled the trigger, I heard the gunfire and shot back."

Aelin wouldn't look at him directly. She made as if to peer around him to look at the body, but he Rowan shifted and blocked her vision. It was quiet for a moment as he thought over her recount of events. Aelin was a good liar, but something in his gaze made her doubt her skills.

"I am going to be very honest. I don't believe you," Detective Whitethorn deadpans, and Aelin's head shoots up. Her eyes go wide even as she reminds herself that that was entirely how she expected. him to react. "I don't think you are telling me the whole truth. You are hiding something Miss. Galathynius, and I  _ will  _ find out what it is." 

He eyed her like he was a hawk and she a little field mouse. It was insulting. Even if he was entirely correct. Aelin shakes her head, "I am hiding nothing." the outrage in her voice makes Fenrys glance at them warily.

"A man came into my shop, my  _ home,  _ and pointed a weapon at me. I don't feel safe, and you are accusing me of what? Nothing?" Her lip curls back in outrage, teeth bared like a wildcat.

Rowan's jaw twitches, "Spare me the theatrics and stop playing the victim. There are inconsistencies here, and I know you are aware of them. A lab has to confirm it, but I can see that the trajectory to the side of the head was off. You are hiding something or  _ someone. _ " 

He was close to the truth with that one. 

"Maybe you are just a power-hungry asshole who needs to invent problems and pin them on innocent people because you are too inept at your job to actually do something good." The ire in her voice came out like vinegar, but she knew anger was the best way to distract Rowan from the dangerous line of thought he was going down.

He was quick to rise to the challenge.

" _ You  _ are an entitled brat," Rowan spits at her, not taking the bait with the vigor she was hoping for. He stands up and straightens the front of his shirt, " One last question, and you can be rid of me for now. Is there anyone else who lives or works on the premises?" 

"Yes. My roommate Lysan-" Aelin stops. Where was Lysandra? She hadn't seen her since her breakdown in the kitchen hours ago. Had she not heard the commotion? Her roommate was a naturally heavy sleeper but to not hear a  _ gunshot _ . "Lysandra was upstairs, but I haven't seen her. I need to go upstairs and check on her." 

Aelin goes to sand, but Rowan pushes her back down onto the chair. "You stay here," he orders. "Fen," Fenrys turns at the sound of his name. "There is a roommate upstairs. She isn't accounted for." 

"Got it," Fenrys said and disappeared up the stairs.

Rowan turns away from her, and the tightness of his dark-green uniform clung to the ripples of his back. A latticed muscle pattern that only someone who kept themselves in prime physical could hope to maintain. Aelin bites her lip. She could admit to herself Whitethorn was attractive. Objectively speaking. That didn't redeem his sour personality or fix the stick up his ass. 

A small part of her. A  _ tiny _ fraction of herself was wounded that Whitethorn judged her before giving her a chance. She owed him nothing. They were perfect strangers, but there was a  _ tug  _ that made her want to gravitate towards him. Even with his bitter words and cutting glances, she found herself not wanting him to walk away. A curiosity to know this man who obviously wanted nothing to do with her. 

Maybe Aelin was doomed to be drawn to things that are bad for her. 

The thoughts she'd chewed on for a day slipped from her lips before she could stop them. "Yesterday. You didn't like me from the moment you saw me. What did I do to make you hate me?" 

Rowan's head snapped to her, and Aelin hopes he didn't see her flinch. The vulnerability in those words made her ill. They sounded too much like the little girl she used to be. 

A child who had hope that the adults in her life would care for her. A student who moved mountains to seek the validation she craved from a cruel teacher. Who loved a boy until it killed him because he cared for her in return.

_ To be wanted. To be good enough. To be loved.  _

Why those damn insecurities chose now to rear their ugly heads, with  _ Detective Whitethorn  _ of all people, she had no idea.

Still, the question hung in the air and demanded an answer.

Rowan's face twisted in disgust and, worse still,  _ disinterest. " _ What makes you believe you are worth the time to hate? I don't know you. I don't care about you enough to hate you. You have an inflated sense of self-importance."

_ Ouch _ . 

It stung a little more than Aelin anticipated, but her mask was perfected, and it fell into place seamlessly. "So you were just born a prick then? I hope you don't have a girlfriend. I can't imagine anyone dealing with your shitty attitude long term."

The words take him back, and he rears up to continue their cycle of nasty vitriol when the sound of racing footsteps echo down the stairs. 

Aelin leaps to her feet as Fenrys rounds around the kitchen with an unmoving Lysandra in his arms. Her face is as pale as milk, and her eyes are vacant, glazed over, unseeing. 

Dead.

_ "Get that ambulance here now." _


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I put a bullet where I should have put a helmet, and I crashed my car because I want to get carried away-” ATC the Ready Set
> 
> Content warnings- Implied sexual abuse, physical abuse, drug use, and alcoholism

In the world, certain things were undeniably true. 

The sky is blue. Two plus two equals four. And more importantly- Aelin hates Lysandra Ennar.

They'd been pitted against each other as rivals from the very first moment they had met. When Arobynn had stood them side by side and told Aelin, she would need to become half as beautiful if she wanted to aspire to anything in his household. 

Those words caused a spark that lit a never-ending string of fuzes that blew up throughout the manor on a daily business. Gentle nudges down staircases. Midnight hair cuts. Aelin even threw a dinner knife at Lysandra on one occasion.

She still had the scars from the beating she received afterward.

Everything in their life was a competition. Who got their period first. Larger boobs. Better test scores. Prettier clothes. 

So when Aelin walked from her room, dressed and ready to go on her mission, it pissed her off to see Lysandra Ennar leaving Arobynn's room in her nightgown. 

Lysandra caught Aelin's eye and gave her a man-eating grin as she twisted the satin fabric between her fingers. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't have anything I was willing to risk getting ripped."

Aelin snarled and marched up to Lysandra, chest to chest, the way her nemeses' assets spilled out the top of the gown just that much more than her's did only served to fan the flames. "You're ass is going to bust the seams of my dress. If you were planning on being a good tramp, you should have picked something a little more flattering for your figure. Like a trash bag." 

Lysandra tilted her head and showed off a purplish splotch adorning her neck. Aelin cringed inwardly. She was an expert in bruises and knows precisely what kind of activities left that kind of mark. "It doesn't really matter what I wear...it all looks better on the floor anyway." 

Pushing her back, Lysandra steps away from the wall. Their eyes meet, and neither backs down from the challenge presented. Aelin feels the judging glare raking over her, searching for weakness. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" Her voice is too sweet, and a fake smile plasters on her face. "Go fetch your bones for Daddy, dog. You know you have to bring back the prize if you want scraps from the table. I would hate if you had to go without." 

Aelin wanted to scream. To rage. To call her all the names running through her head and put the girl in her place. But at that moment, Sam appeared.

A flush crept up her cheeks, and Aelin felt her heart stumble in her chest. While they too were rivals- Arobynn thought a little healthy animosity was good for all of them- Aelin had started seeing Sam in a different light.

His floppy brown hair fell over his eyebrows, and his eyes reminded her of warm chocolate. Sam was pretty, but more importantly, he was kind.  
It used to irritate Aelin to no end. Sam couldn't be trusted to get the job done like Aelin could and frequently brought Arobynn's ire down upon himself. He was gullible and naive, and-  
Perfect.  
Aelin had broken her arm a few months ago. It wasn't an accident. No training mishap or assignment gone wrong had fractured the bone in two. She'd displeased Arobynn, and he'd handed her a mallet. 

She did what she had to do. 

When she got back to her room, the shock only worsened, and she just looked at her arm at a loss. Aelin didn't know what to do with it. The pain was slowly creepy past the block her mind had main and frustrated tears were beginning to well in her eyes.

Sam knocked on her door and came into her room without permission. Aelin snarled out nasty words. Ordered him away and told him to leave her alone.  
His eyes fell upon the ruined limb she was cradling to her chest, and they guttered. Before Aelin could process what he was doing, he was across the room and sitting beside her. 

"Let me help," his voice was quiet but sincere. There was no mockery or judgment in his face, and he looked genuinely distressed at Aelin's pain.  
Slowly, she nodded her head and allowed him to touch her.

Sam poked and prodded Aelin's arm for a few minutes before he rushed out the door with the promise he'd be back. When he returned, it was with an old medical journal clutched under his arm from the Manor Library. Together, they figured out how to crudely splint the broken bone. It wasn't perfect. Hell, it probably wasn't helping that much at all.

But it was the nicest thing anyone had done for her in a very long time. 

They weren't exactly friends after that, but Aelin didn't look down on him like she had before. When they passed by each other in the halls, she would say hello. Sometimes they sat next to each other at dinner. But lately, her eyes had started to linger on him in training. They would follow the stretch of his muscles as they lifted waits or the stride of his legs when Arobynn made them run. Sometimes he would catch her looking and smile. 

"Hello, Laena." He greeted her with a broad smile, the nickname falling from her lips with ease. Celaena. The name that was not her name.  
She tried to calm her beating heart, Aelin couldn't let her excitement show in front of Lysandra. A casual greeting was on the tip of her tongue, but before she could say it, her stomach fell dropped. Plummeted. Fell through the floor, and the acid burned a hole under her. 

"Hi, Sam." Lysandra smiled. It wasn't fake or hostile. Her grin reached ear to ear and lit up her entire face.

Sam walked up to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I missed you, Lys." Never once did his eyes drop down the slouch of her nightdress, or did the hickey on her neck gross him out. 

Because Sam was kind and he liked Lysandra. 

Aelin completed her assignment in a haze. Her mind lingering on the pieces of her broken daydream. Because that's all Sam really was. Just a fantasy she used to get through the long days. He was nice to everyone. Sam helped fix her arm because that's just what he does. She wasn't special. Aelin barely even talked to him outside of training. 

Lysandra was beautiful. That's why she was Arobynn's favorite. When Aelin was out lurking among the gutters and recesses of Rifthold making deals and carrying out Arobynn's business. Lysandra was lounging in the common room eating tiny, little finger sandwiches and wearing silk dresses. She was spoiled with everything she could ever want. 

Now she was Sam's favorite, too.

As Aelin walked towards Arobynn's office, a severed finger with an insignia ring in hand, her mind lingered on the memory of Lysandra's smile. It made her a bit excessive on her mission. The way the man gurgled on his own blood as she slit his throat soothed, the blood spurting from his lips- it soothed Aelin's rage in a way that shamed her.

She may not be able to control her own life, but she could end someone else's. 

Plus, he'd been a sleaze. Aelin's whole life may be abnormal, and the lines of right and wrong were blurred for her, but she knew that a grown man had no right to look at a fifteen-year-old girl the way he had. 

No one would miss him. 

Aelin put her hand on the handle of Arobynn's office door and paused. Straining her ears against the quiet of the manor hallway, she could make out the faintest sound. 

Crying. 

Pushing open the door, Aelin was taken back by what was in front of her. Lysandra Ennar was sitting behind their master's desk, a clear glass filled with an amber liquid clutched in hand. Based on the empty whiskey bottle next to her, it wasn't the first drink of the day. Looking up from her drink, Lysandra took in the sight of Aelin and the severed finger in her hand and laughed. "He's ruined us."

"What?" Aelin steps away as the other girl lurches to her feet, eyes red-rimmed from crying and the reek of alcohol emanating from her. 

"Look at you," Lysandra whispers. "Look at what you have in your hand? It doesn't even phase you."

Aelin frowns and waves the finger in the air between them. "It's just a finger. Like you said, I have to bring bones home to my master if I want to eat. It's just life."

Before Aelin was a seasoned killer, and she and Sam were abysmal in training, they could go a week at a time without meals. She remembered them crawling around the basement floor and catching rats in their hands. It was one of the only times the two of them had worked together to accomplish anything. The snap of their necks haunted her. 

Arobynn's anger when he found them trying to chew through the hides was equally unforgettable. Nor was the taste.  
The memory of hunger pains was enough to always be eager to please their master. Less she feels that hurt in her belly again. 

"That's just it," Lysandra lamented. "It's not normal. You aren't normal."

Lysandra being incredibly wasted and going through an expensive bottle of whiskey was not her problem. Aelin rolled her eyes. "So what?"

"We shouldn't be like this," more tears fell from green eyes. "I shouldn't be able to kiss Aronynn like that and then kiss Sam and feel nothing. I'm broken. He's ruined me." 

Lysandra tips the glass back and downs the contents in one sitting. "Ruined. We are ruined."

Aelin doesn't acknowledge anything else her nemesis says. She walks away from the spiraling girl and slams the office door behind her. The words that broke her spirit ringing in her ears.

She kissed Sam.

~~~

Aelin glanced up from her vigil at Lysandra's bedside. Her cold, limp hand lifeless in Aelin's grip. Her friend's face had regained a little of its color. The whirring and beeping of the machines around them assured that she was breathing and her heart was beating. 

It was so painful to see her larger than life sister looks so fragile. 

Guilt was a constant hand on Aelin's shoulders. Lysandra had spent the entire morning the day before taking care of her. She'd been helping Aelin through everything for the last several months. 

She should have known that Aedion's news would hit her hard. That Lysandra would feel overwhelmed, and her nightmares would creep a little closer into the day time. 

Sleeping pills. Lysandra overdosed on sleeping pills.

From the dosage, it wasn't on purpose. It wouldn't kill her, but it was enough Lysandra had to have her stomach pumped. Enough that she was able to sleep through two gunshots and police sirens. 

It was enough that Lysandra could escape her demons, and Aelin should have known that old habits died hard. 

Aelin's cheeks burned from crying damn hormones, and her back ached with the hours she'd been slouched in an uncomfortable hospital chair. Aedion hadn't contacted her yet, and Detective Fenrys had called her with alarming news two hours before.

The gunman had traces of Synth in his system.

Aelin was kind of glad that Lysandra was asleep through all of that. It would have just scared her friend further. Arobynn was definitely making his presence in Orynth known. Whether the robbery was a direct attempt from him to signal he was onto them, or it was just a coincidence the kid was on Synth she didn't know. 

She didn't know, and it scared her. 

Aelin rubbed her palm against her stomach. She was stressed, tired, hungry. All of the things she was supposed to avoid being or she risked putting her last piece of Sam in jeopardy. 

She'd done many unforgivable things in her life but losing Sam's son or daughter would be the worst offence. It would kill her. 

Dr. Yrene Towers knocked on the door and entered the room.

She was a sight for sore eyes. All relaxed demeanor and soothing presence. Orynth as a city was still recovering from the Adarlan occupation. It wasn't a wealthy city by any means, and Yrene was one of very few doctors in Orynth willing to waste her talents in a place she wouldn't be properly compensated.

"Sup, doc." Aelin greeted the woman tiredly.

Yrene's mahogany skin glowed like iron under the warm light of the bedside lamp. "Hello, Aelin. How are you feeling?"

"Never better," she can't keep the droll lilt from her voice. 

Yrene takes it all in good grace, "That is definitely a lie. You look exhausted. That's why I brought you this." 

A warm styrofoam cup of coffee is placed in her line of sight, and Aelin's heart leaps for joy. She looks up at Yrene in wonder. "Now, Doctor, this isn't prescribed. You risk your license." 

Yrene smiles. "I said you should stay off the caffeine. One cup won't hurt you. Sometimes splurging on something that isn't necessarily good for your body is just what your mental health needs." 

Aelin reaches out to take the cup from her hand, but it's jerked from her reach. Yrene gives her a stern look, "So long as it isn't in excess."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Aelin snatches the cup and takes a tentative test sip. It scalds her tongue and has a little too much cream, but she swears her whole body relaxes at the first perfect sip. "What's the news?"

Pulling Lysandra's lids back gently, Yrene begins a routine exam of her vitals. "She is doing well, but I wouldn't be surprised if she sleeps through the night. Once she's up, we will keep her under observation for a day or two. Then she is free to go home." 

Aelin takes a long drink from the cup, not minding the heat. "That's good...that's good."

"Is something wrong, Aelin?" Yrene asks gently.

Aelin purses her lips, unsure of how to ask this gently. "I know it's not my business, but I think it would be good for Lysandra to talk to someone." 

"That's not invasive, Aelin." Yrene pulls up a chair and sits next to her. "Honestly, most people would do good speaking to someone. Times have been hard these last few years."

"They have," Aelin agrees. "For Lysandra especially."

"Would you like me to recommend a friend to her? I know a great therapist, I would be happy to gently refer that direction." 

Aelin's brow furrows, and that pain in her gut grows. "We can't afford it."

Yrene frowns, concerned, "I see." A long silence stretches between them. "Let me pull some strings, and I can contact you back. I may be able to work something out."

"Really?" Aelin looked up hopefully.

Yrene pats her shoulder softly. "I believe I can work something out. Now, as for you-"

Aelin groans.

"You have missed two appointments. I don't care if you can afford it. You are high-risk, Aelin. Your family history alone is enough for me to be concerned." Yrene doesn't say it outright, but the implication of her mother makes Aelin's heartthrob. "You deserve help as well. Come back on Tuesday, and we will do an exam and make sure all is going well." 

"Alright," Aelin concedes. "I will come in on Tuesday."

Yrene grins warmly, not detecting the lie. "Wonderful. Now, I am prescribing you sleep in an actual bed. A tall blonde man is downstairs, offering you a ride. Go home and sleep. If anything changes, I will call you."

Aedion. He must have heard about Lysandra. Aelin squeezes her friend's hand again and presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'll be back in a few hours. I promise."

Aelin lets the good doctor escort her downstairs. She's absolutely exhausted, the coffee not phasing her at all. The slump in her shoulders must concern Yrene as she keeps a worried hand hovering behind Aelin's back. 

They exchange a few more pleasantries, and Yrene assures Aelin that she will know the moment something changes with Lysandra. 

Aelin is looking forward to a few hours of sleep. The stress of the day boiling inside of her. Only when she steps outside it not Aedion on his motorbike waiting for her. 

It's freaking Rowan Whitethorn.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I could follow you to the beginning and just to relive the start, and maybe then we'll remember to slow down, at all of our favorite parts." - Paramore

Chapter Six-

Aelin squared her shoulders and avoids making eye contact with Whitethorn. The sidewalk is only a few paces ahead. Maybe if she pretends he isn't looking directly at her, she can put off an unwanted conversation. Why had he even come here? Aelin wonders.

Rowan wasn't dressed in his customary black suit. He wore dark wash jeans and a button-up shirt. It wasn't casual Friday, but it was the most dressed down she'd seen him. His eyes locked on hers, and Aelin cursed herself for looking. Walking faster, she turned away from the car. 

"Aelin," he called after her.

She didn't look. It was going to be a long walk back to her apartment, and the sun was starting to set. 

"Aelin," Whitethorn repeated from behind her, a hand grasping her shoulder. 

She turned on her heel and crossed her arms. "Now is really not the time. I gave my statement. I'm tired and want to go home, and from the looks of it, you aren't on duty. Leave me alone."

"I know Aedion was at the Stag, Aelin." Rowan deadpanned, and Aelin felt her heart stumble. 

"Aedion. Is he your brother? Cousin? The two of you bear a striking resemblance. The boutique next door has cameras aimed at their dumpsters." He flashes his teeth in a rueful grin. "They have a raccoon problem. Fenrys recognized him sneaking away from the scene."

Fenrys. Aedion mentioned that they'd had run-ins together. Fleeing the scene was pretty damn incriminating. Aelin takes a deep breath and mentally edits her story as she lays it out again. 

"Aedion is my cousin. He grabbed my spare gun from the kitchen and came to my rescue when he heard the commotion." The lies flowed easily as she took great care in not treading over her own tail. "He has a record. I'm sure you are already aware he isn't supposed to be in the proximity of a weapon. I told him to leave before you all showed up."

Sinister delight flickers across Rowan's face, reminiscent of a hawk who successfully managed to sink its talons into the meat of its prey. "Liar," he whispers.

Aelin feels a shudder run down her spine. "I know Aedion isn't half as pretty as me, but we really are cousins. Our mothers were-"

"There is only one weapon registered in your name," Rowan cuts her off and opens his phone, typing something into a search bar. "Either your cousin was illegally armed, or you have unregistered guns on the premises."

She internally scoffs. If only he knew. Aelin had more than one paltry gun to protect herself with. None of it legal. The only reason the gun under the counter was registered was because she kept it in the cafe. 

It was her attempt at good citizenship.

"So what?" Aelin drawls lowly. "These are challenging times, and Orynth isn't the city it used to be. A woman has to do what it takes to keep her shit safe." 

Aelin smooths a hand over the front of her shirt, the alibies already forming in her mind. Who would convict a single, pregnant woman for keeping herself safe? She could take the fall for Aedion. No one would blink at the fact her cousin came to the aid of his poor, _defenseless_ cousin. The kid was tripping on Synth. He would be written off as just another junky trying to make some quick cash to burn on drugs. 

Rowan didn't reply, his thumb skimming the screen of his phone as he read. "You moved back here recently from Adarlan?" 

"Yes. I got separated from my family in the occupation. Not that it is _any_ of your business." Aelin conceals the twinge from the long-closed wound that was her family. Even after a decade, it still ached. 

Rowan turns the screen of his phone towards her, and her own face flashes back at her. It's an old photo. She was six, and her chubby, juvenile face was still alive with a light she no longer carried. Blissfully unaware that the end of her happy life was drawing near. 

"There is barely any records on your return—the mortgage for The White Stag. The gun. A bank account at Havilliard Vaults. You don't have a driver's license or a passport on file. I have contacts in Adarlan." He shuts his phone off and sticks it back inside the pockets of his jeans. "What would I find if I searched for you there, Aelin?" 

Aelin swore mentally. He had damn good intuition, she would give him that. "Should I be flattered by your obsession with me? A man tried to rob my coffee shop, my cousin protected me. That's the end of the story. I'm concerned that you are spending your free time digging into my personal records, frankly." Thunder rumbled overhead, and tiny, wet drops began to sprinkle onto her cheeks and gather on the ground. 

"So I would find _something_ ," Rowan concludes, his head tilting to the side as he gazes at her with a lethal curiosity.

Aelin said nothing. No confirmation or denial. A safe edge she could balance on if his bark held bite and he dug up dirt. It gave her the chance to rebuke without double-crossing herself.

They stayed standing there, willing the other to back down, but neither budged. Lightning flashed, and Aelin had to move a lock of sodden hair from her face.

As if noticing for the first time it was raining, Rowan's evergreen eyes lost their heat. They were both drenched, and she could see a slight purple tint coloring his lips. She'd forgotten how frigid the rain in Orynth could be when the clouds dipped over the Staghorn's. 

"Get in the car." He finally broke their silence. "We will take you wherever it is you are staying." 

"What?" Aelin sputters. "Who is _we,_ and why can't I go back to my loft?"

Rowan lifts a pale eyebrow, "A man was shot dead on your bottom floor. The coroner hasn't finished cleaning yet." 

"He died _downstairs,_ not in my damn living room," Aelin whined. All she wanted was to sleep in her own bed and lie in the safety of her own home for a few hours. She didn't want to be gone from Lysandra too long.

A car door slams and a disgruntled Fenrys appears through the rain, trying to cover his head with an old newspaper. "What is taking so long? You two are going to soak the seats of my car." 

So it was _Fenrys_ car. The other half of the ' _we'_ she assumed.

Aelin raises her hands defensively and steps back. "Don't worry about it. I'm walking home." 

Fenrys physically cringes, a sincere look on his face. "I cannot, in good conscience, let you walk home in the rain." He pauses and shakes his head, "and isn't there a dead body in your house?"

"She's not walking home," Rowan answers for her. "Who can you call to stay with?" 

Silence. Aelin looks off into the distance, watching the rain wash the Orynth skyline. With Aedion on the lamb, there wasn't anyone who would let her crash on their couch. _Maybe_ someone in the Bane? They wouldn't appreciate her bringing the police to their house. 

She didn't have friends besides Dorian, Chaol, and Lysandra. The thought of Georgina Havilliard being okay with Aelin sleeping over was laughable. That woman would fret that Aelin's poorness would stain her cashmere carpets. 

Not to mention the frenzy the tabloids would go into if they caught a pregnant woman having a sleepover with one of the richest men in Terrasen. 

Fenrys exchanges a look with Rowan, who immediately postures to his friend. A tense, silent conversation was exchanged between them.

"Absolutely, not-" Rowan's voice growls at the same time Fenrys smiles at her warmly and says, "You can stay with us." 

"Thanks, but no thanks. Really, it's kind of you to offer, but I can find somewhere to crash while they get the bloodstains off my floor." The thought of sleeping in a dumpster was more appealing than sharing the same roof with Rowan Whitethorn, who looked ready to throttle her.

Fenrys walked beside her and wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders. Aelin hadn't realized how cold standing in the rain was making her until his warmth seeped into her skin. His scent of lemon and aftershave wafting over her. "Nonsense, we have plenty of room for a tiny thing like you."

"Flattering thing to say to the woman bloating up like a balloon," Aelin doesn't resist as he steers her towards the running car. No, she really didn't want to sleep in a stranger's house, but the look of outrage on Whitethorn's face almost made it worth it. 

They approach a sleek blue sports car, its windows tinted so darkly you couldn't make out the interior. He opens the passenger door up for her and smiles, "I hadn't even noticed." 

"You seriously don't expect for me to sit in the back, do you?" Rowan sighs. His wet shirt clings to the arches of his shoulders like a second skin. 

"I know better than to push my luck that far," Fenrys climbs into the back seat, making the car dip. "You can drive, but if you put so _much_ as one scratch on Moonbeam, then I will end you. Got it?" 

Aelin smiles for the first time since everything had gone to chaos. "You named your car?"

Fenrys pats the leather of the back seat affectionately. "She's not just a car. She's all the family I've got left."

Aelin's smile dims, and she was just about to offer condolences when Rowan scoffs. "Conall will be thrilled to hear that." 

"Yeah, well, Conall sucks. When he apologizes for busting the fender of the Asterion, we can be related again." Fenrys notes her confused expression and clarifies. "Con is my so-called twin. We fix classic cars in our spare time."

"Expensive hobby. Busting crime in Orynth must pay well." Aelin cringes as the car pulls forward, unprepared for the change in her equilibrium. It's been a minute since the last time she was in a moving vehicle, and nausea rises dangerously in her throat. 

"Not at all, actually. Conall works in pharmaceuticals. He makes the real money." Fenrys leans forward, resting his arms on the narrow consul between the front seats. 

"Put your seatbelt on," Rowan elbows the side of Fenrys' head. 

Fenrys holds up a hand to fend off any more blows. "The house is like five minutes away, relax. Who is going to ticket me, you? Such a narc Whitethorn." 

Aelin tunes out their bickers and places a hand over her chest, taking deep breaths. She tried to keep her eyes focused out the front window, but even looking at the horizon was too much. Closing them tightly, she forced herself to concentrate on anything but the moving car.

The drive passed too slowly for her liking. Fenrys kept up a constant chatter, and if he was speaking to her, her lack of replies didn't faze him. Fighting back the bile in her throat took all her energy. When they pulled up to a tiny, worn-down house, Aelin could have cried in relief.

Throwing open the car door, she made it all of three steps onto the lawn before her stomach turned inside out. She hurled its meager contents, and the hospital vending machine snacks somehow tasted worse the second time. 

"Shit," Whitethorn swore from behind her. "You couldn't have made it ten feet to the bathroom?" 

Humiliation stung her eyes, and she could feel her face heating up. She tried to straighten herself up, but her gut had other ideas, and a second round of bile crawled up her throat. 

A pair of warm hands gathered the blonde hair off the back of her neck and pulled it away from the danger zone. "You really don't have to be such an ass, Rowan." Fenrys hissed at his friend. 

"And you don't have to take on every charity case we stumble across just so you don't feel worthless," Rowan walked past them and fiddled with the lock on the front door. 

"Screw you," Fenrys whispered at his back and slowly helped Aelin stand upright. "You good, Princess?" 

"I'm so sorry," Aelin mumbled and wiped her mouth on her still damp sleeve. She wanted to melt into the ground and disappear. 

Fenrys laughed warmly, "I can't tell you how many times Con and I have come home wasted and thrown up on this lawn. The neighbors are used to it at this point. You didn't do it in Moonbeam, and that's all that matters."

He leads her into the house, and the warm smell of sugar and smoke fills her nose. The living room is surprisingly spacious and cozy. Big leather sofas surrounded a stone fireplace with a fire burning inside. Shelves stuffed with books clustered one wall, and a window looking out into a garden let natural light inside. 

Aelin wouldn't have guessed from the exterior that it would be so _homey_ inside. 

She was taken back when a man that looked identical to Fenrys rounded the corner with a tray full of cookies. "I knew the minute Rowan walked in here looking like someone pissed in his cereal that you were up to something." 

This must be Conall, Aelin realized. His eyes took her in, but when they dropped to her belly, they nearly bulged out of his head. "Damn it all to Hellas, please tell me that you didn't get a girl pregnant." 

Aelin frowned, a retort on her lips, but Fenrys beat her to it, "I'm flattered you think I stand a chance with Aelin. If only I were so lucky, but no. She's just a friend who needs a place to stay while her house is out of commission." 

"It's kind of thoughtless of you to bring her here, brother." Conall offers her an apologetic expression. "Of course, you are welcomed to spend the night. It's just-" His voice trails off, but he doesn't need to say it. 

Rowan doesn't want her there. 

"I promise I will be out of your guys' hair first thing in the morning. My sister is in the hospital. I want to be back with her as soon as possible." Aelin appeases, already uncomfortable. This would be an awkward night. 

Fenrys dips out of the room as Conall offers her a cookie and a place to sit. He comes back with a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt. "You should take a shower and warm up. Here are some dry clothes. I'll take the couch, and you can sleep in my bed." He raises a hand and cuts her off. "There are no cooties, scouts honor." 

She wasn't going to protest. Maybe it would be the polite thing to do, but her back ached from sitting in the hospital chair. Aelin would accept this last offering, and she would make it up to Fenrys. It was rare she met someone who seemed to be so _friendly._ He definitely wasn't the type of person she was used to encountering. 

A warm shower, some mouthwash, and a cookie later, Aelin was tucked into Fenrys' bed. The mattress was lumpy, and the room was bare of decor, but it beat her room at the loft by leagues. 

Crossing her arms over her middle, Aelin wished she could feel the baby move. It was early for that still, but it would banish some of the nightmares she knew would come for her. Memories of Sam's limp, destroyed body haunted her. They would for the rest of her life. But in her sleep, he would occasionally be replaced by a much tinier figure. 

Aelin would find a little boy with her blonde hair and Sam's warm brown eyes on the table instead. His fingers would be bent backward, little cheeks flushed black and purple with bruises. An expression forever frozen in pure terror. 

Sam would come in beside her with an expression that _shattered_ her. He would clutch the limp body and weep. Kiss the round cheeks and beg the gods to take him instead. Then he would turn and scream at Aelin for not protecting him.

Without him, she was without love. He was the first person to shatter the walls she'd build to protect herself from Arobynn. Who made her feel worth something after the death of her family. He weathered through her worst storms, and even after seeing how truly _ugly_ she was inside, he still kissed her like she was beautiful. 

_"There isn't a single piece of you I hate, Aelin," His thumb caressed her cheeks so softly. "Every piece makes you who you are, and I wouldn't change you."_

Sniffling, Aelin curled into the fetal position. She missed Sam so much. It felt like there was a belt always around her neck, and every time she thought of him, it got cinched tighter. Lysandra and the prospect of their child kept her together, but the loneliness still came for her. No one could fill the crack he'd left behind. 

The burning behind her eyes grew hotter, and grief dragged a sharpened talon across the delicate skin of her heart, threatening to make it bleed. She needed a glass of water—something to take her mind off the evergrowing pain inside her. 

Aelin treaded quietly down the hallway into the kitchen a poured a glass of water. She took long sips, trying to drown the ache in her chest. Taking stock of the kitchen, she noticed a backdoor leading out into the garden she saw earlier. Fresh air sounded wonderful. 

Opening the door slowly as to not wake Fenrys, who was asleep and snoring loudly in the den, Aelin crept out into the garden. It was dark, but the moon highlighted the bright-leafed carnations and hydrangeas. Whoever had planted them had taken great care in their placement and design. All of it was immaculately tended to. Fountains and bird feeders hang all around. It was a shockingly tranquil place in the heart of a broken city. 

Leaning over to admire a patch of kingflame, a hand touched her shoulder and startled her. Aelin dropped her glass and shot an elbow back into the gut of her assailant, but a calloused hand caught the limb. "Damn it woman, it's just me."

Rowan stood behind her, clothed in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Her eyes trailed up the scrolling tattoo. Ancient, intricate design climbed up the length of his body. When she followed it to his face, Aelin was startled to see that his eyes were rimmed with red. 

"What are you doing out here," Rowan's usually smooth tone was guttural. 

It dawned onto Aelin that she may have stumbled across something personal. She shouldn't have come here without asking. "I couldn't sleep. I'll go back inside." 

"No," Aelin froze with her back to him. "No, it's okay. You can stay. No one usually comes out here besides me. I was just surprised." 

She turns around and notes the dirt smeared across the knees of his pants. "I don't want to intrude."

"It's too late for that," Rowan says and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Shit. I'm sorry, I am an asshole. She would hate it, if I was the only one who ever got to see this place."

"Who is she?" Aelin caresses the leaf of a green shrub with the pad of her finger. Rowan was obviously having a moment when she came out. She didn't want to ogle at him and invade his privacy. 

It's quiet, and when he speaks, his voice is softer than she's ever heard it, "My wife." 

"You are married? I had no idea," she hadn't seen a sign of any other person but the three guys living in the house. Aelin was typically pretty observant. She's surprised she missed the signs, and a weird feeling of disappointment clouds the far back of her mind. 

"I _was_ married. Not anymore. She died." The confession comes out icy, and Aelin's own sorrow writhes in sympathy for its mirror. 

_Oh._

"She was pregnant when our home was invaded. Lyria was out here weeding the daisies and didn't hear them bust out our front window. They put a bullet through her chest, took my Uncle's watch, the jewelry from her box, and fled." His hand pinches a dead bud from the plant in front of him, and he crushes it between his two fingers. A pink-ish smear stains his skin as he rolls the wilted petals. 

_"Just one more day, Laena."_

Aelin reaches out tentatively. Rowan's face was blank, but she knew what that kind of loss did to you, the _burning_. No one, except maybe Arobynn, deserved that kind of pain. Not even Rowan, who was an ass to her most of the time. 

The muscle was taught beneath his skin, and her hand barely managed to make contact before he had her wrist in his grip. Aelin gasped and kicked out at his knee cap, forcing him to release her. 

"Don't touch me like that," He growled, the anger she was so used to seeing taking over the blankness. 

Aelin stepped back, fully prepared to defend herself. "I'm sorry. You looked upset, and I understand-"

"But you don't actually-" he interrupted, more malicious than she was prepared for. The vulnerable man who'd only been there a moment before gone. "Lyria was my _wife_."

"Don't assume you know me," Aelin felt tears stinging in her eyes. Sam may not have been her husband, but they'd been preparing for a life together. "I've lost people too. It doesn't give you a pass to lash out at everyone." 

"Whoring yourself out and the baby daddy not sticking around is not the same." He steps towards her aggressively. "Fenrys' may have brought you to my home, but don't get it in your head that I have anything to offer you or you to me."

"You know what? Go to hell." Aelin hissed and marched to the door. "For just a moment there, I thought you were an actual person. My mistake."

Sam hadn't been just some fling, he was her _everything_. Rowan didn't know that, but she couldn't bear to stand there while his memory was insulted. 

Aelin didn't bother shutting the door quietly, and as her feet burned a path down the hall, she heard Fenrys scramble up from the couch. 

_"Aelin? Where are you-_ " she slammed the door to his bedroom and locked it, just as the backdoor opened and closed again. 

She could vaguely make out the sounds of Rowan and Fenrys arguing, but all Aelin could focus on was swallowing the burning tears trying to escape. 

Sam would be so disappointed if he saw how fragile she'd become in the wake of his death. That's not how he knew her. She tried to shove the pain back in that box deep inside her, but tonight it was winning. Her heart ripped, and the blood poured out. 

One sob escaped her, then another, until her whole body was curling under the weight of them. Aelin gripped her hair and _pulled. Lysandra_ wasn't there to stop her this time. 

All she could think about as she fell apart for what felt like the millionth time was that Sam would be _so disappointed_ in her. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can cry with me, ask me questions, or follow my original works on Insta or Tumblr :)
> 
> @whimsically_reading - Insta
> 
> whimsicallyreading - Tumblr


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